


a line around your thoughts

by ilikemybooksthick



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Meet-Cute, Museums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikemybooksthick/pseuds/ilikemybooksthick
Summary: As he moves through the NCMA, he comes upon the Rodin section, and falters.There’s a young man with a sketchbook, scribbling away, presumably trying to capture the definition and power of Rodin’s work.Dougie usually doesn’t stare, it's rude, but he can’t help but think, this artist could be art himself.Or:Museum curator!Dougie and Art Student!Andrei
Relationships: Dougie Hamilton/Andrei Svechnikov
Comments: 20
Kudos: 113





	a line around your thoughts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mondaycore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondaycore/gifts).



> We deserve rom-coms.
> 
> [moodboard](https://ilikemyficthicc.tumblr.com/post/639633002310369281/a-line-around-your-thoughts-as-he-moves-through)

It’s a slow Tuesday.

He’s still not sure whether or not he likes it when its slow like this. Like any job, it really depends on how busy it was that week.

There are no field trips or special events going on in the West Building and as far as he knows no one has asked for a private tour today, so Dougie simply wanders.

It’s Dougie’s favorite thing to do on the job. 

Getting to walk around the museum and observe people observing art.

It’s so telling: the glint in their eyes, the quirk of their mouths.

The fascination.

_How did they do that?_

The appreciation.

_I can’t believe someone made that._

The confusion.

_What does this mean?_

The debate.

_Does this represent what I think?_

_What is the artist saying?_

_Is there a deeper meaning?_

So many questions.

And Dougie gets to answer them. (At least, to the best of his ability.)

He goes through the galleries, stopping now and again to smile and ask if people have any questions.

He loves this too.

The type of people who go to an art museum on slow Tuesdays usually love talking to the curators. Jumping to start conversations about their favorite piece or artist or sometimes just to learn.

That shared love of the arts, how it can connect strangers, never ceases to fill him with joy.

As he moves through the NCMA, he comes upon the Rodin section, and falters.

There’s a young man with a sketchbook, scribbling away, presumably trying to capture the definition and power of Rodin’s work. 

Dougie usually doesn’t stare, it’s rude, but he can’t help but think, _this artist could be art himself_.

With his height and muscles and that face, he could easily see Rodin picking the man as a model rather than an apprentice.

He must have stood there, transfixed, a bit too long because the young man looks up from his sketchbook and looks straight at him.

Dougie straightens up a bit and gives his best smile, pretending he was actually doing his job by stopping.

The man smiles back and confirms Dougie’s theory that he’d be a prefect model.

“Hi! Any questions about the sculptures today?”

The man stops, as if debating how to answer, “Uh…I am drawing.”, he gestures to his book, “For class.”

The man has a strong Russian accent and seems struggle a bit with English, _an international student?_

He’s shifting around now, looking nervous, as if Dougie will stop him from working.

“Yes, of course!”, he says in his most cheerful voice, “We welcome all art students here. The museum loves supporting artists and their education.”

The man breathes a sigh of relief, “Thank you. Is nice here. I like it.”

Dougie doesn’t want to move on just yet, he probably should, but sue him, sometimes you just have to talk to a beautiful man while you still can.

“Do you go to State? Down the road?”

The man gets excited, giving Dougie another smile. “Yes! Not far. Very nice school. Nice area. Good people.”

Dougie can’t help but smile back at the man’s excitement. “I’m glad you like it here. It’s hot but I’ve met a lot of nice people down here too.”

The man seems to consider Dougie’s words. “This mean – You – you not from here?”

Dougie nods, “I’m actually Canadian. Toronto, to be exact.”

This makes the man smile yet again. (That’s a lot of wins for Dougie today.) “We both not American then! I am Russian.”

Dougie laughs at that. “Yeah, I could tell.”

The man blushes, looking down, and shifts his feet again. “I’m sorry, yes, I know accent a lot. My English not good.”

Dougie immediately feels bad. “No! No, I’m sorry. Your English is fine! I still use Canadian terms down here and get funny looks.”

The man looks up and cocks his head to the side, as if he can’t decide whether or not to believe him.

So, Dougie goes on, “Yeah! I’ll say ‘washroom’ instead of ‘bathroom’ or ‘toque’ instead of ‘beanie’ or ‘runners’ instead of ‘sneakers’ and everyone always laughs when I say ‘eh’.”

The man starts to look comfortable again, not exactly smiling but speculative. He doesn’t say anything in reply though and Dougie doesn’t know enough about Russian culture to know what that kind of silence means. He doesn’t want to the end the conversation there so he decides to switch subjects and just go for it.

“What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The man seems a bit more confident now. “My name Andrei. You?”

Dougie almost laughs again, _what a Russian name._ “My name is Dougie. It’s nice to meet you.”

Andrei ducks his head and looking back up says, “Good name. Nice to meet too.”

He’s about to ask about Andrei’s classes when he gets tapped on the shoulder.

He turns around. It’s his fellow curator, Jaccob. Who’s got a sly look in his eye, as if he knows exactly why Dougie wants to talk to this particular museum-goer. (That wouldn’t surprise him, Dougie knows he an open book.)

“Sorry to interrupt”, Jaccob says to Andrei, not looking sorry at all, “I’m about to go on lunch and someone just requested a tour at the desk.”

Dougie tries his best to keep his face neutral and not look as disappointed as he is but before he can agree to go, Andrei tells Jaccob. “Is okay, I take much time.”

He looks at Dougie, “I draw. You work. I will come again.”

Dougie tries to sound professional and not too excited. Nodding, he says, “It was really nice to meet you. If you ever need help when you come back, please let me know.”

Andrei nods back. “I will ask, yes. Thank you.”

Jaccob coughs, a not to subtle reminder for him to get going.

He tries to think of something else to say to Andrei but comes up short. Jaccob saves the awkward silence from Dougie not leaving by telling Andrei a quick “good luck with your sketches”, before tugging Dougie along and whispers to get it together.

Before he makes it to the front desk, Jaccob elbows him in the side, “You look at beautiful art all day but you can’t handle a pretty boy?”

Dougie can’t come up with a witty retort fast enough so he settles on, “Shut up”.

Jaccob laughs at him as they reach the desk. “Good luck”, he turns to go but then looks back at Dougie, “And I don’t mean on the tour.”

Dougie rolls his eyes and gives the most sarcastic “Thanks” he can give before turning to find his tour group and tries to push Andrei out of his mind.

.

A week rushes by, this time filled with field trips and more tours as the school year really starts and people start coming back from summer vacation.

Dougie hates to admit it, but he does prefer certain grades over others. Kindergarteners to second graders can’t pay attention for long, middle schoolers are the worst, and high schoolers are either a huge hit or a huge miss. But the third to fifth graders, if they have a good teacher, are so curious and open and honest.

It’s not something he ever expected to learn on the job. Knowing which classes and grades have good teachers by the first five minutes but here he is.

It’s halfway through another Tuesday and he’s helping the sixth-grade teachers guide their students to the outside Rodin section when out of the corner he sees Andrei.

He doesn’t falter this time, but just barely.

Andrei is sketching again, on the far end of the pool, _playing with the water reflection of the statues?_ He isn’t paying attention to anything but his work when, suddenly, one of the kids starts yelling at another. This startles Andrei out of his concentration and after looking around and noticing the kids for the first time, his eyes land on Dougie.

Before Dougie can even smile, one of the kids asks him if they can go in the pool. So, he has to yell to the whole class that no, no one can go into the pool. He’s met with twenty groans but he sees Andrei smiling and something warms in his chest.

He wants to walk over and talk to him again but now a different kid asks if they can climb the trees.

He yells at the class yet again and the smile stays on Andrei’s face.

He sees the teacher walking towards him so he settles for waving.

Andrei waves back as the teacher, whose name he’s already forgotten, starts thanking him for his help and apologizing for her class with the usual “they’re never like this” lie and he plays along.

They’re out there longer than Dougie would usually allow and Dougie’s ashamed to admit it’s because he likes peeking at Andrei every now and again.

He’s been sketching diligently but will sometimes catch Dougie’s eye and Dougie tries to be cool in front of a bunch of sixth graders.

Finally, a couple of kids complain about getting hot so he calls it.

He waits till they’re all back in the building before taking one last look at Andrei who waves.

Dougie waves back and hopes Andrei’s will keep up coming back.

.

The next week is a weird mix. Not exactly slow, not exactly fast, but also not normal. They have a couple evening events for donors and members he has to be at so before he knows it, it’s Tuesday again.

With it raining, Andrei’s back at the inside Rodin collection.

Dougie wonders if it’s difficult, drawing a master’s work.

He looks around to check no one needs him and takes his chance.

“Hi.”

Andrei looks up and flashes that model smile.

“Hello, Dougie. Good to see.”

Dougie fights back a blush. Clearing his throat, he wonders why this one guy has such a hold over him. They’ve only had one conversation.

“How’s the drawing going?”

Andrei looks down at his work and then promptly hides it from Dougie, holding his sketchbook close to his chest. 

“Hard. Shading and lighting. Outline easy but lots of mistakes. Need more practice.”

“Well, practice makes perfect!”

Dougie mentally facepalms, what a cliché.

But Andrei nods and looks serious when he says, “Yes, I want to be very good. I practice lots.”

“I’m sure you’re great!”, Dougie tries again.

But Andrei doesn’t seem convinced. “Beauty in eye of holder.”

Then, Andrei looks frustrated, knowing he’s got the saying wrong.

“It’s okay, You’re right! Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

Andrei sighs, “Why beholder and not holder? Not make sense.”

“Yeah English is weird and hard and a little stupid. Don’t feel too bad. You’ll get there!” 

Andrei still doesn’t seem reassured and before his brain can catch up with his mouth, Dougie says, “I can help with your English.”

They’re both shocked by that.

“Really? You help?”

“Um – Yes. Yes, I will.” 

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. _How’s that for a cliché?_

.

Like clockwork, Andrei is back next Tuesday, sketchbook in tow.

Andrei gets help at the Writing Center at school so with Dougie he wants to focus on practicing conversation.

“That way I use to grammar and stop less.”

Dougie is one hundred percent on board. All he has to do is correct Andrei when he messes up and tell him the proper saying.

It’s simple, but repetitive.

He has to stop Andrei a lot.

But now that Andrei’s in learning mode, he doesn’t get as frustrated. Instead, Andrei has a laser focus and works hard to remember all the loopholes in the English language.

Dougie used to be okay with how long his lunch breaks are but now he wishes they were longer.

Within the hour, Andrei had covered his early years in “middle of nowhere, Russia” and moving to Moscow but Dougie’s alarm went off before Andrei could start any of his Moscow adventures.

Dougie tells him he done an excellent job. Andrei attempts to argue, Dougie had to correct him most of time, but Dougie stops him and repeats that he did an excellent job.

Andrei practically preens at the praise.

“We try again next week?”

It was the easiest promise Dougie’s ever made.

.

Jaccob, of course, makes fun of Dougie for repeatedly checking his watch. They both know what he’s waiting for.

It’s another hot Tuesday and Dougie cannot wait to go outside for lunch and talk with Andrei.

And, yes, Jaccob, Dougie is well aware of how he is acting. And, no, he does not have crush, he’s just being a good person.

(Jaccob doesn’t buy it.)

Andrei is right on time and they decide to sit outside, next to the giant rings today.

As they sit and eat, Dougie decided to ‘challenge’ Andrei today.

“What’s the best museum you’ve ever been to?”

“Hermitage.”

_Wow, no hesitation._ Dougie laughs, “That was quick!”

“Is easy question. No challenge.”

“Alright, here’s the challenge: Tell me why it’s the best with as many words as you can.”

Andrei looks worried for a second, but that emotion is quickly replaced with determination.

“I talk more in class now and I study lots.”

“Okay. Wow me hotshot.”

Andrei clears his throat, obviously for dramatic effect, and starts.

“St. Petersburg is little over hour flight from Moscow. You cannot drive, take too much time. We go for New Years. Special holiday. Dad save up money for long time for whole family. I just kid, I know we go to Catherine the Great Winter Palace but I not know about museum part. There are many parts actually. Old, new, small, theatre, and palace. We there for two whole days and still not finish all. They have everything. From all times and all countries. Second biggest museum in world. After Louvre. Millions and millions of things. Is most beautiful place I’ve ever see. Not just art but the buildings and gardens and…everything. Is amazing.”

Andrei stops and Dougie realized he hasn’t stopped Andrei once, even though he should have. It was the longest Andrei had spoken in one go, with so much emotion, and Dougie was fascinated.

Andrei smirks, realizing he’s impressed Dougie and finishes by saying, “Sad. No English words to express beauty properly. We Russians have many.”

Dougie rolls his eyes but is smiling, hoping his alarm never goes off. 

.

By the following Tuesday, Dougie is ready for more stories, and Andrei is ready to give them.

Andrei has a big brother who came to America for work so Andrei followed as soon as he could.

He had lived with his brother over the summer in Detroit before coming down to Raleigh for school.

That’s where Diego Rivera comes in.

It’s a famous story. It’s one Dougie knows well but wants to hear Andrei’s retelling.

“They hated him. His thinking. His politics. His communism. They called his art disgusting and not American. They wanted it destroyed. But still, they are there, wall after wall. Now, here we are. Almost ninety years later and the murals are still there, telling the story of the city, of the people.”

Dougie hasn’t seen any of Andrei’s sketches yet, he’s still to self-conscious about them, but when he speaks about art, and you can hear the passion in his voice, see it in his eyes, in the way his whole body moves when he tells his stories.

It’s beautiful to watch, to listen to.

Yes, beautiful.

A basic, over-used English word, but still the truth.

Andrei is beautiful, even more so by his passion, and Dougie is an expert on beautiful things. 

.

It’s a cloudy Tuesday and Andrei is early.

He’s not sketching in the Rodin section today but all over.

It’s like he’s everywhere Dougie is. Or maybe that’s because it’s all Dougie’s been paying attention to lately, Andrei’s presence. _Maybe that’s why he’s noticing him so much more_? 

Halfway through a tour, Dougie is almost sure Andrei is following along. But he’s not completely sure because Andrei keeps sketching away in his book, as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

Finally, when he gets his break, Andrei’s waiting for him in the café.

Dougie hopes to catch a glimpse of what Andrei drew today but Andrei somehow senses he’s close by and closes his book as Dougie walks to the table.

Andrei immediately launches into a story about his brother and their latest phone call and Dougie isn’t sure how to feel about Andrei being so open about everything in his life but his art.

But Andrei looks so excited, so he pushes those thoughts aside and listens to how it’s already cold up north.

.

The next time they meet, Andrei surprises him.

He wants to know about Dougie’s favorite museums. His own Hermitage and Detroit Institute.

So Dougie talks as Andrei sketches absentmindedly. 

He talks about the first time he went to the Art Gallery of Ontario and how it changed his life.

How he begged his parents to take him to every art museum in Toronto afterwards. From the Royal to Casa Loma to the MOCA to the Gardiner to Aga Khan. He was obsessed.

His parents thought it was a phase.

It wasn’t.

He kept going back. Again and again.

There was just so much to see, to learn.

Every single piece had a story and he had to know.

Finally, he stops to drink some water. He’s talked so much. But Andrei never stopped him.

He looks down and realizes neither of them ate.

They wolf down their lunches and make promises for next time.

.

Dougie talks about Boston. How the MFA taught him so much but was overwhelming with pretentiousness. The way most Boston elites were.

It came from the universities.

Harvard. MIT. BC. Northeastern. Tufts. Emerson.

So many of them.

Too many.

The donors, the interns, the atmosphere. It was too much.

He could never breathe, relax.

Everyone was constantly trying to one up each other.

“I went there with so and so and I make this much and I know…”

He had to leave.

He wasn’t one of them.

Never would be. 

Andrei talks about his parents and life in Kazan.

He talks about his classes and the campus.

State has an office specifically for international students and they hold regular events.

He had become friends with a pair of Finns who obviously liked each other but neither had made a move yet and a Czech a year older than him who he planned to room with next year.

He also had considered drawing on tablets and utilizing the technology State was known for but he couldn’t make the switch. He wishes he could but, in the end, there was nothing like putting pencil to paper for him.

They talked, Andrei sketched, and Tuesdays pass.

.

Dougie is in the middle of explaining how Impressionism got its name. How “impressionism” had originally been written as an insult by a critic.

“The critic had accused Monet’s _Sunrise_ of being a sketch or “impression,” not a finished painting. They were rebels, the Anonymous Society of Painters, Sculptors, Printmakers, etc. They had organized the exhibit in Paris to boycott the establishment and their awards. Even their technique was rebellious. They refused to use varnish that would tone down their use of bright color that was unusual to the times. They didn’t come up with a name of their style but the brand, the insult of “impressionism” would become the exact opposite in terms of history and gave way to post-impressionists like Van Gogh.”

Dougie was about to launch into about Van Gogh’s impact and how he wants nothing more than to go to Amsterdam and see the Van Gogh museum when he notices Andrei’s stopped sketching and there’s a soft smile on Andrei’s face. _Was that always there?_

“What?”

Andrei smiles wider, “Nothing, keep going.”

Dougie’s suddenly self-conscious, “Am I talking too much?”

Andrei shakes his head.

“Never.”

.

Dougie’s lost track of how many Tuesdays its been since he’s met Andrei.

It feels like he’s known him forever but also like it was yesterday.

Finals are this week so Andrei isn’t coming this time.

It’s amazing how quickly people can adapt to routine.

It’s amazing how quickly people can matter to us.

It’s Tuesday and Dougie hates that he’s eating lunch alone. 

He hates that just a few months ago he would’ve been fine but now he feels desperate.

After finals, it’s winter break and Andrei will go see his brother in Detroit and it’ll be four or five Tuesdays till he sees Andrei again.

He should learn to deal with it.

It’s not like they’re dating or anything.

He eats his meal in silence, angry he forgot to ask Andrei when his flight is, and angry he let his heart fall this hard.

.

Andrei flies out the day after finals end.

It’s one of those late-night flights that are cheap because most people don’t fly that late and Andrei can only afford cheap flights.

It’s Thursday and Andrei flies out in two days and he’s only got this one hour with Dougie because he has to study and pack.

Dougie tells him he shouldn’t have come; grades are more important than having lunch together.

But Andrei has got that determined look in his eye and says he had to come.

Andrei takes his sketchbook out of his backpack and gives it to Dougie.

“I had to give you this.”

Dougie is so confused.

“Don’t you need this for class?”

Andrei’s mouth quirks up to the right, “I used the whole thing already. I will buy new one for new semester. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, but why are you giving it to me? You’ve never shown me your art before.”

Andrei shifts a bit, “Yes, I know. Open book and you see reason.”

Now, Dougie is nervous. He’s not sure what he’ll find but he knows this is important, as important as every conversation they’ve ever had, maybe more.

He opens the book and the first few pages are the Rodin sculptures.

It was just as Dougie suspected. Andrei as incredibly talented as he is passionate.

He flips through slowly, appreciating the shading and defined lines.

_Rodin would be proud_ , he thinks.

Then he flips to the next page and stops cold.

It’s him.

It’s Dougie profile.

He flips to the next page to check he’s not going crazy, but the next one is him too, also from the side but he’s bending down talking to a child.

Dougie in front of a painting with a tour group.

Dougie sitting outside, next to the rings.

Dougie talking.

Dougie sitting.

It’s all him.

Finally, he looks up and there’s Andrei’s model smile.

“When I come back, we keep lunch dates, yes? Maybe go to other museums too?”

It’s the easiest promise Dougie’s ever made. 

**Author's Note:**

> "Art is a line around your thoughts." - Gustav Klimt 
> 
> Semi inspired by the quote, "Isn't it true that the art we love reflects more about us than the art itself? Isn't that true of the people we love too?"
> 
> Thank you for reading! Any and all kudos and comments are deeply appreciated!  
> you can talk to me on [tumblr](https://ilikemyficthicc.tumblr.com/)


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